


Let it Snow

by QuagmireMarch



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Canon Divergence-First Meeting, Fluff, M/M, meet cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:27:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27884497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuagmireMarch/pseuds/QuagmireMarch
Summary: Yuuri finds out Chris is stuck at the Detroit airport thanks to a snow storm, so decides to offer the man and his friend a place to stay for the night. Turns out the friend is Victor Nikiforov.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Comments: 187
Kudos: 629





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot of a thousand words. One chapter and done. It decided otherwise. Probably going to be two or three chapters but I never have any idea with these things. The boys do what they want.

Yuuri pinched his nose, dislodging his glasses in the process. Offering a friend a place to stay shouldn’t have required quite so much deliberation, but the thing was, Chris Giacometti was only kind of a friend. Like they chatted in the hotel halls and maybe got dinner if they were at the same competitions, but they didn’t exactly trade confidences or talk on the phone. They only even texted to trade good lucks and pet pics. So, Yuuri calling to offer his couch would be weird. Maybe.

But, also Detroit was swamped with a major sporting event happening (something with hockey though Yuuri couldn’t have said what exactly) and two major conventions in town (one of which was a huge gaming convention Yuuri knew _everything_ about). Hotels had been filled to capacity for days. Even the Air B&B postings had nothing to offer. And now this super blizzard or whatever had hit and shut down the entire airport and every other mode of transportation, an airport Chris had gotten stranded at on his way somewhere. All Yuuri’s information on that came from the single Instagram post Phichit showed him which consisted of a picture of Chris at said airport looking forlorn with the message “Snowed in in Detroit.”

So, yeah, his first instinct had been to call and offer his couch, because they had one, it was actually a futon that folded down into a surprisingly comfortable bed, and he wanted to help. Except then he paused to think about it and his anxiety brain decided to point out this could be seen as all kinds of strange from stalking (how’d he know it was needed?) to propositioning (so, hey, come and stay at my place, wink, wink) to just plain awkward which was, after all, Yuuri’s default state.

He needed to consult an actual functional human being for advice. Also, make sure Phichit was even okay with having some random person he barely knew in his space.

“Hey, Peach, about that Instagram post, do you think we should offer him our couch for the night maybe?”

“Who? Christophe Giacometti? How would we even do that? We can’t just put that on social media. He’d probably think we’re deranged fans or something.”

Yuuri shuffled his feet and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I mean, I was going to call him, but you’re right. It’s odd, and--”  
  
  
“You have Chris Giacometti’s phone number?”

“Yes?” Yuuri looked up in time to watch Peach’s face go from startled to delighted, a wide grin blooming and eyes dancing.

“Call him! Call him now!” Phichit bounced in place. “I’m going to meet Chris Giacometti. This is the best day ev—wait. Yuuri, _why_ do you have his number? Did you hook up with--”  
  
  
“No!” Yuuri waved his hands wildly. “Nothing like that. We just...we were in Juniors together for a while and we’re...friends? Friendly? Something like that.”

“Okay, we’re going to talk about why I am just learning this _now_ , but first, call him. Even if I didn’t want to fanboy and possibly climb him like a tree, it’s the nice thing to do.”

Yuuri blinked and then shook his head as if he could physically force that image out of his mind. Then he dialed.

  
Chris answered after one ring. “Yuuri! Hi. Is everything okay? You don’t usually call.”

“Oh, um. Yeah, I’m fine but you’re...not? I saw your thing about being stuck in the airport.”

“And you’re checking on me? That’s sweet. I didn’t even know you used Instagram.” He sounded confused, but not angry.

“I don’t really, but Phichit—my roommate does—and well, see we live here. In Detroit that is. I think I told you that maybe? Anyway, all the hotels have been booked up and I thought if you were stuck overnight that you might want a place to sleep. And I have a couch. Couch bed thingy. Futon.” He stopped and took a deep breath, cursing softly before he added quietly, “This is why I don’t talk on the phone. Or at all really.”

Chris laughed, warm and easy, nothing mocking in it. “We’re definitely stuck for at least tonight, and it would be amazing not to sleep in a hard, plastic chair, but does this couch bed thingy,” he chuckled again, “have room for two? I’m traveling with a friend and I can’t just abandon him here.”

Yuuri nodded and rolled his eyes at himself as he realized Chris clearly couldn’t see him through the phone. “Yeah, it’s a full, so it should be okay. Hrm, we just have to see about getting you here. Usually you could just Uber, but with the snow….let me call you back in a minute. I know someone with a truck that’s good in the snow, and he owes me a favor.”  
  
  
“Wow,” Chris’s voice was still bright, but Yuuri heard the fatigue under it, “such service. Just let me know what or who to look for. And thank you, Yuuri. Seriously.”  
  
  
“Sure.” And Yuuri hung up, already rehearsing what he’d say to Jason when he called in the IOU from the hockey player for all the free ballet lessons.

##

Victor stared at his phone in abject horror. Twenty-seven calls and not a single hotel had a room free. Not for any price, not even for him. Which, yeah, sounded arrogant, but places had fought to have them stay in their chains before, and it wouldn’t have been the first time they booted someone for him. Just the first time he’d have been maybe a little okay with it if they had.

“Chris,” he sighed dramatically, “we have a problem.”  
  
  
The taller man handed him a paper cup of tea with a smile. “All the hotels are booked. I heard. But I, being the miracle worker have gotten us a place to stay.”

“What? How? Where?”

“Yuuri Katsuki’s place. He called and offered his couch. Which pulls out to a bed before you start complaining.”

“Who?” Victor twisted his neck and heard the vertebrae crack. He’d have preferred a king-sized hotel bed with high thread count sheets, or better, his own bed and Makka, but far be it from him to look down on the aid so graciously offered by some guy Chris probably slept with once.

“Yuuri Katsuki. Twenty-two, Japanese national champion?” Chris made a hand motion as if this all should have triggered recognition.

Which, yeah, probably, if the guy was another skater, much less an actual national champion, Victor should have at least known the name. He didn’t. “I don’t think I know him.”

“Oh, mon amie,” Chris grinned slyly and pulled something up on his phone. “You have no idea what you’ve been missing.”

Victor shrugged, but watched the video shoved in his face regardless. The guy didn’t seem like much as he was introduced. Cute, sure, but there were plenty of attractive men on the figure skating scene.

Then he started moving. And Victor couldn’t look away. Most skaters were graceful, but Katsuki flowed across the ice like a dream, not just completely in time with the music, but as if the music were summoned by his every gesture, brought forth for him and him alone.

  
Victor had never seen anything like it, but he desperately wanted to see more. “Chris,” he gasped, “why haven’t I met him? Why hadn’t Yakov picked apart everything he does because he’s a threat? Why isn’t he winning everything?”

“Anxiety.” Chris offered a bit of a sad shrug. “Poor guy has pretty severe anxiety and it messes up his performances, his jumps in particular.” He gestured at his phone. “Except in exhibition skates like that one.”

The phone rang before Victor got to ask more, but he listened in intently as Chris made some incredulous noises before hanging up. “What was that about?”

“So, Yuuri’s arranged a ride for us. With Jason Peers.”

Victor blinked. “Wasn’t he a hockey player on the 2010 US Olympic team?”

“And a forward for the Detroit Red Wings.” Chris gave him a flat look. “Also, how can you know that but not the name of a guy actually competing in your sport?”

“Yakov likes hockey.” Victor flushed. He’d been called self-absorbed before, but he’d never had it demonstrated so pointedly as now.

Still, he knew about Yuuri Katsuki now, and he fully intended to make up for lost time.

##

Jason said it’d take about an hour to get there and back, maybe more with the snow, so Yuuri decided to throw together a soup for dinner. Easy, quick, and he had the ingredients to make enough for four people. Besides, Phichit had already made up the couch bed, so Yuuri needed something to keep himself from panicking while he waited for Chris to arrive.

It helped, the process of cooking the meat and slicing the vegetables familiar and meditative from helping at the onsen. He had to use carton broth, but he made do. Phichit had brought back a bunch of spices from his last trip and they did wonders for the chicken broth.

With the soup merrily bubbling away, Yuuri decided to throw in his earbuds and do the dishes. One more productive task to keep the anxiety at bay. He didn’t even have to listen for the door with Phichit bouncing and hovering around it like a moth battering a porch light. Perfect.

So, with _Yellow Flicker Beat_ playing in his ear, Yuuri got to work with a smile and a shimmy to his shoulders he knew would turn into little turns and dance sequences as he moved from washing to drying to putting things away. Happened every time and Yuuri had spent a fortune on hamster toys bribing Peaches to keep it off the internet. Still, the momentary relaxation it gave was worth the hassle, so he turned the music up and let himself go.

##

Jason and Victor shared many traits: both professional athletes, both had strong opinions on music, and both spent the entire time trapped together in a car asking Chris dozens of questions about Yuuri. Victor liked to think his were the better questions. He wanted to understand Yuuri, what made him tick, what allowed him to move as if he’d transcended physical boundaries and become pure music. Jason’s questions more or less circled around the best way to get Yuuri to sleep with him. Which, when he finally, as they arrived at the apartment building, just point-blank asked Chris, Christophe replied with a very droll, “No idea, but if you find out, let me know.”

Victor wanted to slap both of them. Katsuki might be attractive, but treating him like some conquest to be won missed the point. The man made art with his body. He deserved to be respected and honored for that. Not drooled over.

“Worried about the competition, mon amie?” Chris grinned over his shoulder at Victor, pausing as they took the stairs to Yuuri’s floor.

“No,” Victor rolled his eyes. “I’m not trying to hook-up with Katsuki. I just...I want to understand how he _does_ that.”

Chris’s eyebrows furrowed. “Skate? Victor, in case you hadn’t noticed, you’re the best skater in the world.”

“Not skate, dance. Make music with his body. It’s...impressive.”

“And has nothing to do with the fact he has the best ass in figure skating?” Chris finished climbing the stairs and knocked on a nondescript door.

Victor frowned. “I thought that was you. Also, completely not the point. Let me be very clear. I do _not_ want to sleep with Yuuri Katsuki.”

“Oh,” said the tiny dark-haired boy who opened the door with a bright smile just as Victor spoke, perhaps a tad too loudly, “well, I suppose someone had to feel that way, but he’s going to be so disappointed. Also, I’m Phichit, the roommate. Come on in.”

Opening his mouth to apologize or explain or something, Victor found himself staring right at Yuuri Katsuki, in poodle pajama pants and a t-shirt worn so thin it was practically see-through, shimmying his hips and shoulders as he danced, eyes closed, around a small, spotless kitchen. His throat dried instantly and words disappeared like smoke.

The shirt was stretched out enough it fell over one shoulder, Yuuri’s collarbone exposed, his neck stretched long and supple as he lifted into a perfect pirouette. On linoleum. In socks. Socks with more poodles on them. The shirt lifted to reveal toned abs and the graceful swell of his hip. Victor swallowed. Twice.

Then, still unable to look away, he reached out and tapped Phichit’s shoulder. “Does he do this a lot?”

The boy grinned. “Always.”  
  
  
“Huh.” Victor dropped his bag and took a step forward as if pulled by an invisible string towards the beautiful man dancing before him. “Yeah, what I said before, I was wrong.”  
  
  
Chris and Phichit both laughed, the sound loud enough to apparently get Yuuri’s attention because he opened his eyes, looked right at Victor, and screamed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this is going to be longer than I expected.

Yuuri didn’t know what else to do. Victor Nikiforov stood in his living room gorgeous as a god in his designer coat even smelling like airport and Jason’s stupidly strong body spray. Yuuri hated how that smell got into everything; it was why he never accepted Jason’s offers to drive him places anymore.

Which was utterly irrelevant right now, but panic brain didn’t care. It threw whatever nonsense out it wanted while Yuuri remained utterly frozen, ears still red from the fact he had literally just screamed like the teenage babysitter in a bad horror movie. At Victor. Victor Nikiforov. Who was in his living room. Looking at him. In his pajamas.

Shit. Welp, only one thing for it. “Food’s ready!” He shouted the words way too loud, flushed again, and bolted for his bedroom.

He didn’t make it. Phichit snagged the back of his shirt and pulled him around, wrapping an arm around his neck, one squeeze from being a choke-hold. “Yuuri, you can’t go. You have to introduce me to our guests.”

Yuuri took in Phichit’s wide grin and the sparkle in his eyes, and knew this night would end in either tears or drunken shenanigans. And then tears. Either way, he decided to get ahead of the curve if only to pay Phichit back for ruining his escape.

“Fine, Phichit, this is Chris Giacometti. Chris, this is my roommate who apparently wants to climb you like a tre--” The sentence ended in a choking squawk as Phichit jammed his thumb into Yuuri’s throat. Still totally worth it.

“And,” Phichit smiled at Victor, not offering a hand because he continued to hold onto Yuuri, “you’re Victor Nikiforov. I recognize you from all the posters on Yuuri’s bedroom walls.”

No. No, no, no. He didn’t. Yuuri felt all the blood try to simultaneously rush to his face and flee his body. This was how he died, an embarrassment-provoked heart attack while in a headlock he probably could have broken at any point, but didn’t because it made Phichit feel bad.

  
Yuuri didn’t so much care about that right now, so he wrenched himself loose and once again fled. He made it to his room this time, but when he went to slam the door and slump in boneless relief, the door didn’t slam. Didn’t even close all the way. Just stopped, a foot wedged between it and the jamb. A foot clad in loafers that probably cost more than Yuuri’s entire year of rent.

  
So, Victor’s foot.

“Um, we usually take our shoes off in the house.” What? Of all the things that could have come out of his mouth that was what panic brain went with? Well, Yuuri supposed it could have been worse. It could have been ‘Hey, wanna come in and fuck me on top of the dakimakura I have of you?’

“Okay,” A hand, all long fingers and perfect nails, crept around the edge of the door. “But, can I do that once I’m actually in your room? Because I’m fairly certain if I do it now you’re going to lock me out.”

Yuuri felt stupid that doing so hadn’t even occurred to him, but Victor didn’t need to know that. “Why do you even want to come in? I...we’ve….you don’t even know me.”  
  
  
“Hmm. True. But, I’d like too, and also I have to give you your present.” Victor kept his hand and foot in the door, but didn’t push to get inside.

Yuuri liked that. He wasn’t sure why he liked it, but he did. “Present?”

“Yes, to thank you for letting us stay. Please, Yuuri, can I come in?”

Yuuri looked around. Victor’s image gazed back from every direction. Yeah, no. Not happening. “I’ll...I’ll come out.”  
  
  
  
Those long fingers tapped tunelessly against the wood. “But, Yuuri, then I don’t get to see the posters.”

Was he whining? Was Victor Nikiforov actually _whining_ like a kid because Yuuri wouldn’t let him in the room? Ridiculous. So utterly, unbelievably, not something Yuuri ever imagined could happen that he forgot for a moment to be panicked. “Yes,” he said, voice suddenly back to a normal octave and tone wry, “that’s the point.”

“Ah, Yuuri, so mean.” But the offending appendages retreated.

Yuuri let the door slide closed and leaned against it while he counted to ten slowly. Then he squared his shoulders and pulled it open.

Only to find himself staring into Victor’s beautiful ocean surf eyes from less than an inch away from them. “Ahh…hi?”

Victor beamed, eyes sparkling as he leaned even closer—close enough his fringe brushed Yuuri’s forehead—and took Yuuri’s hand in his own. “Hi. I wanted to make sure you didn’t renege so I waited for you.”

  
He made it sound like he’d camped out for days rather than fifteen seconds, but with Victor’s breath ghosting over Yuuri’s cheek and his hand warm against Yuuri’s palm, all the snarky responses Yuuri might have made got lost in a haze of mental static. Wordless and on autopilot, he followed as Victor led him by the hand back into the living room and onto the couch. Where Christophe promptly dropped a gift bag in Yuuri’s lap.

A gift bag full of airport booze. Oh. Oh, no.


	3. Chapter 3

Drunk Yuuri was a goddamn revelation. Victor had never smiled so much or so genuinely in his life. Currently, he rested on the couch as he nursed a glass of truly awful vodka and watched Yuuri race around the room – dodging furniture and Christophe sprawled on the floor--while waving a stuffed hamster over his head. Apparently, the thing was a favorite of Chulanont’s and Yuuri had taken it hostage over...well, Victor hadn’t followed that part, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was how incredibly adorable Yuuri looked with his beaming smile, a stuttering giggle breaking forth from him every time Phichit got close enough to hit him with the spray bottle of water the boy wielded like some kind of dueling pistol.

The two disappeared into the kitchen, shrieks and laughs filling the air. However, just as Victor considered getting up, perhaps finding another drink, Yuuri launched himself over the back of the couch and directly into Victor’s lap.

Surprised brown eyes met his, and Yuuri’s arms went around his neck, the hamster dropped. “Oh.” Yuuri looked at Victor, blinked long and slow. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Victor wrapped one arm around Yuuri’s waist, the other still holding his now empty glass. “To what do I owe the visit?”

Yuuri blinked owlishly, tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “You’re so pretty.”

“You’re prettier.” Victor smiled softly, carefully brushing a bit of stray hair from Yuuri’s face. God, his hair was soft. Victor wanted to bury his face in it.

Instead, Yuuri pressed his face in Victor’s neck as he shook his head.“Nuh uh.” Then he looked back up, cheeks red but smile bright. “I know! Dance contest!”

“What?” Victor thought he might be missing something, distracted by the lingering heat of Yuuri’s lips against his throat, accidental as it might have been, but no matter how he tried, he couldn’t make the words make sense.

Yuuri stood and held out a hand. “If I win you have to admit you’re pretty!”

“Technically, Victor said with a soft chuckle, “I never denied that.”  
  
  
“Okay, but...” Yuuri wiggled his hips and bounced on his toes. It was so adorable Victor almost died right there. “But if I win you have to admit you’re the most pretty!”

Pressing a fist to his mouth, Victor managed to suppress his grin, just barely, meeting Yuuri’s booze-bright eyes with his own. “So, you want me to lie? I don’t think I can do that, Yuuri.”

Yuuri pouted, luminous eyes going puppy wide and lower lip trembling. “But...” He sniffled. “Peaches, Victor doesn’t want to dance with me!” His voice came out petulant.

“Well then, cheri, Victor is stupid.” Chris stood from the floor and wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist. “I’ll dance with you. Though, sadly, I do not have a pole this time.” He winked. “At least not one for that kind of dancing.”  
  


Victor stared at Chris, betrayal hot in his throat. Yes, his best friend had drank a lot, but—wait. Pole? _This time_? Exactly how well did Chris and Yuuri know each other?   
  
In Chris’s arms, Yuuri squirmed and wriggled free. “I don’t wanna dance with _you_ , Chris.”

“I do!” Phichit zoomed in from...somewhere, hamster plushie balanced on his head right up until he body slammed Chris back to the floor.

Yuuri nearly tumbled down with them, but Victor grabbed his still outstretched hand and pulled the shorter boy out of Chris’s arms and into his own. Luminous brown eyes looked up at him, and then darkened as Yuuri took his hand in a firm hold and started leading him in a perfect waltz.

While very near blackout drunk. Victor felt his heart rate speed up at the soft smile the greeted him when he wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s waist and relaxed into the dance. God, this man was perfect.

He didn’t know how long the four of them danced, long enough that Phichit repeatedly shoved glasses of water at Yuuri, every time whispering, “You really want to remember this tomorrow.”

Yuuri didn’t argue, just drank and then put the glasses down, one hand always in reach of Victor, body constantly moving even as the dances changed from waltz to paso doble, to tango. As they moved, Yuuri talked. He spoke of his dog back home, of his family, of his love for Victor’s skating, of foods he enjoyed. And somehow, in his openness, he allowed Victor to break through the shell he’d built around himself and he reached out in turn. It felt like with every word he spoke about growing up, about Makka, about his fears when he started skating, Victor became more alive than he’d been in years.

Yuuri was the sun and Victor the bloom opening and thriving under his attention.

Victor never wanted the night to end. So, when Yuuri finally yawned widely, head falling to Victor’s shoulder, he just stood there and swayed until the man’s breathing evened out. Then, so carefully, he picked him up and carried Yuuri to his room, heart racing when the other man snuggled in with a sigh.

He tucked him in, pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “Good night, sleeping beauty.” Slipping out, he allowed himself one last look at Yuuri before closing the door softly.

  
It was only as he curled up on the couch bed alone—Chris had disappeared into Phichit’s room—that Victor realized he’d never even tried to look around at the posters. He hadn’t wanted to lose a minute of looking at Yuuri instead.


	4. Chapter 4

Yuuri woke with a headache, but not a terrible one. Still, the two aspirin by the bed with the cup of water were greatly appreciated. Even if it meant Phichit had planned to get him drunk prior to Yuuri offering to share the bag of booze. The younger man always set up the next day hang-over kit _before_ any drinking started.

For a long moment he just stared at his ceiling, eyes blurred and focus inward as he pulled up the memories from the night before. Frayed at the edges with a slight alcohol haze, but all present. He’d danced. A lot. With Victor. Victor Nikiforov.

He was both the same as Yuuri imagined—beautiful, strong, charming—and so very different—a little dorky, warm, and kind, and so, so funny. Some part of Yuuri had longed for the image of Victor for years, but those feelings faded to nothing in face of the sheer affection Real Victor inspired. Sure, Yuuri still wanted to skate with Idol Victor, but he wanted to walk Makka and have snowball fights and share blankets on cold days with Real Victor.

And, god, he was in so much trouble. Because how could Victor ever want someone as...ordinary as Yuuri. Yet, the feeling of Victor’s hands around his waist, his breath against Yuuri’s neck, the sound of his laugh, and the warmth of a heart-shaped smile that never showed up in the media all burned so bright in his memory that they obliterated his shadow doubts.

Victor...Victor _liked_ him.

Heart pounding hard enough to hurt, Yuuri pressed a pillow to his face to smother the giddy squeal that ripped free. And then a gentle knock came at his door.

“Yuuri? Are you up?” Victor. Sounding uncertain.

“I’m awake!” Yuuri stood, or tried. His feet got tangled in the blankets and he ended up sprawled on the floor with a loud crash. Part of the blankets not holding him hostage were caught on the bed frame, making a very effective leash.

“Are you okay?” The door opened slightly, but Victor made no move to actually enter. “That sounded painful.”

Yuuri tried to stand, but couldn’t seem to get the sheet knotted around his knees loose, and the more he fought the worse it became. So much for being put-together and impressive when he saw Victor again. “I’m not hurt,” he sighed. “Just...stuck.”

“Do..do you need help?” Victor sounded so soft and careful it made Yuuri’s heart hurt. “I can help.”

With another sigh, Yuuri admitted defeat. “Please.”

The door opened slowly, Victor entering with his face turned towards the bed, though his eyes quickly trailed down to the floor where in the intervening five seconds Yuuri had somehow also gotten an arm stuck in the blankets. He wanted to laugh. Yuuri _knew_ he wanted to laugh, saw it in the twinkle in his eyes and the white line of his lips, but he _didn’t._

Just for that Yuuri was going to marry this man.

Instead, Victor just came over and knelt beside Yuuri, gently tugging and testing the impromptu restraints. “This is very tight. Let me,” he looked around, eyes widening slightly as they passed over the walls. “Hmm. I think this will be easier if I get the bit caught on the bed loose first. One moment.”

Yuuri considered dying from embarrassment, but then Victor was leaning over the bed, and death seemed a waste of the epic view of Victor’s butt wiggling as he worked the fabric from the bed frame. Though as last sights went, Yuuri figured that’d be second on the list if he got a say. Victor’s smile—the real one that closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose was first.

And then suddenly, the pressure was lessened around Yuuri’s legs, and Victor at his side. The older man smiled softly as he gently pulled the blankets away, freeing Yuuri entirely. “There you go. All better.” He looked down at Yuuri with a soft blush high on his cheeks.

Yuuri looked back, breath caught in his throat for a long moment. “Thank you.” He swallowed as he sat up, realizing only at the last minute this put him barely inches from Victor’s face.

Victor reached out, a hand grazing Yuuri’s cheek. “Yuuri,” he whispered, voice laced with something that sounded a lot like wonder, “I’d very much like to kiss you now.”

Yuuri let out a tiny gasp, a shy, tender smile tugging at his lips. “I...please?”

Victor leaned in, Yuuri looked up, eyes fluttering closed as warm breath caressed his face. One hand went to Victor’s shoulder, the other to his chest. So warm and solid. And then the softest whisper of a caress as their lips met, feather-light and delicate.

Yuuri pressed forward, just a little, relishing the soft, silken glide of Victor’s lips against his own. Almost chaste, but intense, he felt Victor’s heart racing beneath his hand. It felt like it moved in time to his own, and he never wanted this moment to end.

And then, then someone knocked on the front door.

##

Victor tried to ignore the sound, happiness bubbling inside him like good champagne and Yuuri’s lips perfect and plush beneath his own. But, Yuuri tensed with each repeated pounding, and so Victor pulled away, just enough to look the other man in the eyes.

  
And what eyes they were, golden light dancing in the dark depths, affection shining from them like a physical force. Two more knocks came before Victor managed to pull himself from those eyes enough to speak. “I suppose you should get that? They seem...persistent.”

Yuuri sighed deeply. “Might be our coach. I never plugged my phone in and Peach sleeps like the dead when he’s been drinking.” He stood with a liquid grace the did things to Victor, and offered a hand.

Victor took it, wrapping both arms around Yuuri as he stood and pressing him into a tight, quick hug. “I’ll put...coffee? Tea? Something on.”

  
  
“Tea, please.” And then Yuuri pressed a quick kiss to Victor’s lips and slipped away out of the room.

A room that did, indeed, have an impressive number of posters on the walls, not to mention other merchandise scattered about. Victor briefly considered being concerned. Fans rarely saw him as a, well, as a person, honestly. It made them terrible choices for romance.

But, he dismissed the idea within the same breath. Yuuri might be a fan, but he’d _seen_ Victor, made stupid jokes with him, called him a dork. Whatever illusions Yuuri might have carried of Victor had surely died somewhere between his slurping soup like a toddler and their dancing like they were extensions of each other.

So, Victor gave the posters one last bemused glance and left Yuuri’s room with a smile. One that died immediately as he spotted Jason hovering in the doorway to the apartment. Standing far, far to close to Yuuri. Victor’s Yuuri. Who looked deeply uncomfortable.

Victor immediately moved forward, listening intently to the conversation in progress as he got close enough to hear the whispered words.

“It’s nice of you to offer, but Phichit is still asleep and--” Yuuri sounded flustered and ever so slightly annoyed, though he clearly tried to hide it.

“No problem!” Jason’s voice was hearty and loud. “You can bring some back for him. I made plenty.”

  
  
“Well, I mean, we still have guests and I can’t leave them alone.”

“Everything okay?” Victor slipped up behind Yuuri, sliding his arms around his waist and pulling the smaller man against his chest. He rested his chin gently on Yuuri’s head as he met Jason’s eyes. Victor made sure to keep his voice friendly and smile charming even as he tried to freeze the hockey player solid with his gaze. “Oh. Jason. Good morning.”

Jason frowned as his eyes moved from Victor’s arms to his face, locking on the gaze and returning it with one just as cold. “Fine, Vincent, wasn’t it?”

“Victor, but don’t worry about it. Hockey players always seem to have problems with names in my experience. Must be all the concussions.” Tone pleasant, teasing, but he didn’t even blink as they stared each other down and he held Yuuri just that little bit closer. “Oh, Yuuri, darling, I forgot to ask, what kind of tea would you like?”

Yuuri twisted in Victor’s arms, just enough to look up at him. “Jasmine green, I think.” He placed a kiss against Victor’s jaw. “Thank you.”

Victor figured he had better things to do than look at Jason, and kissed Yuuri’s hair before turning him completely within his hold to place another kiss on those perfect, pink lips. “Anything for you, _moye solntse_."

They stood there, lost in each other until a noise from Phichit’s room startled them. Victor hadn’t even noticed Jason leave.


	5. Chapter 5

Phichit emerged, hair rumpled and eyes mostly still closed, as Yuuri stood in the kitchen making pancakes. Or trying. Victor kept distracting him.

“Feed me,” the small, Thai boy droned in his best zombie impression, arms out in front of him.

“Should I be making enough for Chris, too, or is he still sleeping?” Yuuri didn’t look up from the batter in the pan though he did settle back into the arms Victor wrapped around his waist.

“Hmm, he’s taking a shower.” Phichit sniffed the air dramatically. “Do I smell bacon?”

“No. And you won’t either. It’s pancakes or you can make your own food.”

“Meanie.” Phichit leaned against the couch and rubbed his eyes with one hand. When done, he finally opened them fully. They immediately widened. “Yuuri,” he waved a bit at Victor still snuggled close, “something you want to tell me?”

“Oh,” Yuuri looked up, cheeks pink, “yes, I suppose it is important.” He offered Victor a small smile then looked back at Phichit, face all raw innocence. “Victor made coffee. It’s stronger than mine, so be careful.”

“Very careful, cheri.” Chris stepped from the hall naked except for the towel wrapped around his waist. “Victor’s idea of coffee can be used as an industrial solvent.”

“It’s not that bad.” Victor pouted. Yuuri felt him pouting in the extra weight against his back.

“It is.” Chris then slid into a stool at the bar across from where Yuuri cooked and gestured at him and Victor. “This, however, is adorable. I hope you two were safe.”

Yuuri rolled his eyes. “Victor--”

“Vitya,” the taller man whispered into Yuuri’s ear. “Please call me Vitya.”  
  
  
Yuuri blushed. “Vitya slept on the couch. I think that’s a more relevant concern for you and Peaches.”

“Yuuri!” Phichit sounded scandalized. “We were drunk! Nothing happened. Consent’s important, you know.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say ‘nothing’ happened.” Chris winked at Phichit. “There was some very high quality cuddling.”

Phichit nodded with a wide, happy grin the slowly turned mischievous. “True, and you know, we’re both sober _now--”_

Whatever he intended to add got swallowed up by the blistering kiss Chris planted on him. And just like that both of them disappeared back into Phichit’s room, leaving Yuuri and Victor alone.  
  


Victor sighed into Yuuri’s hair. “We’re going to miss our flight.”  
  
  
Startled, Yuuri turned in Victor’s arms. “Oh! Did you have to be at the airport soon?”  
  
  
“No idea.” Victor placed a quick kiss on Yuuri’s nose. “Chris is the one they’ll notify when they re-book us, and at this rate he’ll get the message sometime mid-next week.” Blue eyes gazed down at him, and Yuuri felt his breath catch. “I don’t mind,” Victor said, voice both soft and rough at the edges. “There are always more flights.”

Carefully reaching behind him, Yuuri turned off the stove burner, eyes never leaving Victor. Then he wrapped his arms around the taller man’s neck and pressed their lips together. He meant for it to be sweet, romantic.

It ended up more hot and hungry. They ended up not eating breakfast. In fact, they didn’t leave Yuuri’s bed again until well past lunch.

##

Victor had never regretted not bringing Makka on a trip more in his life. Had he done so he could have called Yakov, taken another week off, or a month, or just changed rinks and stayed in Detroit forever. But, he’d left his best girl in Saint Petersburg and his sitter needed her picked up within the next day or two or they’d have to cancel their plans, which they were most certainly _not_ willing to do.

Not that Victor would or even could have abandoned his bestest friend for long. Not even for Yuuri. (And Yuuri’d never forgive him if he did anyway.) So, now here he was, pondering his options while he waited for Yuuri to wake up again.

The list consisted of only three options:  
1\. Change coaches, move to Detroit,

2\. Convince Yuuri to change coaches and move to Saint Petersburg, or

3\. Figure out how to make a serious long-distance relationship work.

Realistically, the safest option, the one Victor had always taken in situations like this, was to not pursue a relationship at all. Just savor the moment and move on. It saved a lot of work and potential heartache.

Victor didn’t even want to consider it, didn’t know what he’d do if _Yuuri_ did. He’d never felt so much for someone in so little time. No, that was a lie. He’d never felt so much for someone ever. Yuuri Katsuki had blown through all his walls and defenses and landed straight in Victor’s heart. He couldn’t let him go now.

“Yuuri,” he whispered softly, noting the younger man’s breathing had changed, “are you awake?”

“Hmm” A single sparkling brown eye peeked out from under the covers. “If I say yes are you going to make me move?”

“Only enough to snuggle you close,” Victor said with a laugh in his voice.

“Then yes.”

Victor slid back down under the blankets and pulled Yuuri up to rest against his chest. “We should probably talk about this, how we’re going to make it work long-term.”

Yuuri tensed and turned his face up to look into Victor’s own. “You want that?” His eyes glittered, and a small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips, but Victor watched him hold it back, felt the uncertainty that left the hand resting against Victor’s ribs shaking.

He needed to be clear here, no room for misunderstanding or waffling. If he wanted Yuuri—and he did, more than he’d ever wanted anything before—then he knew, in this moment, he had to be brave. “I do. I very, very much want you, Yuuri Katsuki, to be my boyfriend. I...I hope you want the same?”

“Yes!” The word came out as a wheeze, but the rest the followed were laced with firm determination. “Yes, Vitya. I do. I want...I want everything with you.”

Victor smiled so wide it hurt his cheeks, and he couldn’t stop. “Yuuri, that almost sounded like a proposal.”  
  
“No!” Yuuri’s blush burned across his cheeks, up his ears, down his neck. Victor almost wanted to move the blankets and see how far down it went, but it wasn’t the time. And then Yuuri added, soft and tender, “Not yet, anyway,” and all thoughts other than kissing his boyfriend, _his Yuuri_ senseless were gone.

Eventually, Chris knocked on the door, relayed their new flight information, and Victor had to leave the little paradise of Yuuri’s arms. But, only for now, not forever.

The rest they’d figure out over time. They had that now. A lot of time, all the time. They had, after all, the rest of their lives. And Victor looked forward to every single moment.


End file.
